Well, I'm Gonna Die Anyway
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: While going to the Forbidden Forest to give himself up, Harry makes a decision. He's going to die anyway, why not go out with a laugh? Harry makes fun of Voldy before he is "killed." OOC Harry, confused and irritated Voldy. Crack-fic, now a 3-shot
1. Time to Die!

(A/N: I've been wanting to write this one-shot since, like, forever. But I wanted it to be perfect! As I said in my summary, OOC Harry, but I thought I'd mention it again…if you're one of those people who hate really OOC characters, you might not like this. Harry is _very _out of character. Slight OOC Voldy as well. And brief OOC Lucius. Just a warning. It's funny, since this story totally contradicts my other story, Without Him, which I just wrote a chapter for today. Big switch. Anyway, yes, I did come up with this on my own, with funny add-ins by my little brother Ryan. Thanks bud! Enjoy.)

My Challenge, If You Choose To Accept It: try and read this fanfic without laughing once. It's impossible, trust me, I died of laughter just writing it! Please review! :D

.

.

Harry walked through the forest under the Invisibility Cloak, his parents floating airily beside him. Smiling, he studied the Resurrection Stone in his hand. Wonderful little thing, very useful.

"So I'm going to die, right?" he asked his mom for the millionth time.

Lily sighed. "Yes, darling, you're going to die."

"Don't worry son, it doesn't hurt." James added reassuringly.

"Oh, I'm not worried," Harry said nonchalantly. "I'm just making sure I don't mess it up or anything."

"I don't think you can mess up dying, Harry." Lupin said doubtfully.

Harry's eyes lit up at his words. "So I can make it fun then?" he asked eagerly.

The four ghost-like figures glanced at each other. "I guess…" Lily started.

Harry beamed. "Awesome! There are so many things I've always wanted to tell Voldy, but never got the chance…"

Sirius chuckled, eyes sparkling. "You are definitly my godson," He said fondly. "What kind of things?"

"Oh, you'll see…" Harry said mischievously, face forming a devious expression, complete with an almost scary maniacal smile.

Lily glanced at her son doubtfully and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off as Harry reached the clearing where the Dark Lord lay waiting.

"Well, guess it's time to die," Harry said, sighing. "See you in a couple minutes, Mom, Dad. Don't worry 'bout me, I'm only committing suicide. Bye bye!"

Before any of the ghost-like apparitions of his loved-ones could reply, Harry had taken the Resurrection Stone and chucked it into the forest without a second glance.

"Well that's done," he muttered to himself, glancing at his checklist. "Lets see…"

**Talk to Parents**

**Give self up**

**Tell Voldy all the things you've always wanted to tell him!**

**Die! X/**

Smiling, Harry checked off task number one. Then he tucked away the list, closing his eyes and taking a big breath, going over all the things he wanted to say, before opening them again and sauntering into the clearing, whistling the Andy Griffith theme.

The Death Eaters all gasped in shock at the sight of him, and Harry kindly shot his adoring fans an award-winning smile in response.

Then he turned to face Voldemort.

"Ello Tommy Boy!" he said cheerily. "Here I am! Kill me!" He spread his arms wide, smiling big.

Voldemort simply stared at him, stunned. Frowning, he raised his wand, pointing it at the boy in front of him. "Avada Ked—"

"Wait wait wait wait," Harry said suddenly, interrupting Voldemort's curse. "On second thought, I don't think I'm ready to die yet. There are some things I want to say first." Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, pushing his glasses farther up his nose.

"First things first," he said formally. "I want to thank all my adoring Death Eater fans for supporting me the whole seventeen years of my life, and so devotingly trying to kill me. I really do appreciate your kindness." He smiled at Voldemort's stunned followers, winking at Bellatrix, who look appalled.

Voldemort simply stared. "What kind of trickery is this?" he hissed angrily.

"Oh it's no trickery, Tom Cat," Harry said sincerely. "I just figured, since I'm going to die, I might as well get all my thoughts out in the open. I certainly feels good to get them off my scarred forehead, let me tell you."

Voldemort opened his mouth to retort, but found himself unable to say anything, mouth flapping uselessly.

"Snake got you're tongue?" Harry asked, putting on a look of sympathy. "Awww, poor little Moldy Shorts, he can't speak."

Voldemort's eyes flashed red at this. "My name is Voldemort!" he roared.

"Whatever you say, Voldy-kins." Harry said, yawning nonchalantly.

Voldemort's eyes blazed, and he raised his wand again. "Avada—"

"OOOO!" Harry exclaimed, running up to Voldemort and staring with wide eyes at the wand in his hand. "Is that the E Wand? It's sooo PERDY! Can I touch it?"

Voldemort stared at Harry, his jaw drooping. "What is _wrong_ with you Potter?" he whispered.

"Wrong?" Harry asked. "Nothing's wrong! Actually, I feel great!" He grinned at Voldemort, eyes alight with mad enjoyment. "In fact, I'm _better_ than great! I'm going to die!"

And with that he started humming a mad tune, dancing around garishly, looking absurdly like Luna Lovegood.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters simply watched, dumbfounded.

Finally, Harry stopped his dance, sitting down Indian style on the ground, staring up at Voldemort like an absurd puppy. He cocked his head, studying the dark wizard curiously.

"You know," he said finally, "you really need to grow some hair."

Suppressed giggles met his words from the Death Eaters as Voldemort looked like he was about to explode. "EXCUSE ME?"

"You need to grow some hair," Harry repeated, unfazed by Voldemort's murderous gaze. "Maybe those amazing hair-growth formulas like you see in all those TV commercials? That might give you a little something, or at least something better than that bald white head. Ooo, even better! Get a wig like Snape's! He had the best hair ever! Is that why you killed him, Tommy? Were you jealous of his hair? Be honest."

Voldemort looked like he was going to rip Harry limb from limb. His usually white face was starting to turn a deep purple…

But still Harry remained undaunted. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he studied Voldemort again. "Never mind about the hair growth thing," He said as Voldemort opened his mouth to kill him again. "I think all you need is a good Justin Bieber wig. Don't you think? Then you can do the hair flip! Chicks dig the hair flip. And no offense Voldy, but the bald head and white skin isn't much of a chick magnet."

Avery let out a small giggle at this. Furious, Voldemort killed him with a flick of his wand. "I'm going to kill you," He growled at Harry.

"Oh I know," Harry said, shrugging. "But can you hold off for just a little longer? I still have some more stuff to say."

"Like what?" Voldemort asked sarcastically. "That I smell?"

Harry thought about this. "You know, I hadn't thought about that one," he said. "But yeah, now that you mention it, you do kind of smell like cabbage. Kinda like Mrs. Figg's house. All you need is a cat, and you can totally pull her off."

Voldemort's hands curled into fists, almost snapping the Elder Wand in his rage. "WHY YOU LITTLE—"

"Hang on just a moment there, Tomster," Harry said, looking down at the lit-up screen of the iPhone in his hand. "I just need to send a Tweet real quick. Lets see… 'Am about 2 die. Making fun of Voldy. LOL. Goodbye world.'"

He hit send, and then looked up, grinning. "Sorry about that. You were saying?"

Voldemort's eyelid was twitching now, his hands shaking. "I'M GOING TO—"

"You're going to what?" Harry interrupted, cocking his head. "Rip my heart out and eat it? Never saw you as much of a cannibal, V-dog."

"I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!" Voldemort screamed. "AVADA KED-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, not yet," Harry cut in again. "I'm not finished! I haven't even gotten to the rest of your fabulous appearance! I mean, what is with that nose? It's like, two slits! Did you get plastic surgery or somethin'? Is that it? And don't get me _started_ on the pasty white skin, creepy eyes and abnormally long fingers. I mean really. If you're going to go through all that trouble to get yourself a new body, why don't make it at least a _little_ handsome? I know you were going for scary, but really, all you had to do was turn yourself into Gilderoy Lockhart. If you did that, it would have been _sooo_ much easier to kill me. All you would have had to do is smile and say '_Harry Harry Harry' _like he does, and I would drop down dead on the spot. There. No problem."

Voldemort was speechless. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

"No comment?" Harry said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Wise choice, V."

This snapped Voldemort back to reality. "You done?" he hissed.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good." Voldemort said. "Ava—"

"Wait wait, never mind," Harry interrupted again.

Voldemort slapped himself, rubbing his temple tiredly. "You've got to be kidding me…" He murmured. "What could you possible do now?"

"Oh nothing much," Harry said. "It's just, it just hit me that I'm going to die. And at such an early age. I mean, I'm only seventeen. There is so much I want to do in life! Like, like get a job! Grow a handlebar mustache! And…and get married! Now I won't be able to do any of that! So…so I want to speed it up, you know, do all those things in the little time I have left."

Getting up, Harry started to dig in his pocket. Voldemort tensed, thinking he was going to pull out his wand. But the only thing he brought out was a small blue twist tie.

Quickly, Harry fashioned it into a makeshift hoop that more resembled an oval. Then before Voldemort could say anything, he'd rushed up to a horrified Bellatrix, going down on one knee.

"Bella," he whispered. "Oh, my ugly repulsive Bella. We have so little time left together. I don't care if you are already married. I don't care if you are too old for me and are an evil, deranged Death Eater who wants me dead. Will you marry me?" He held up the blue twist tie, eyes closed and lips puckered.

Behind them, Lucius Malfoy leaned into Narcissa. "He went to Jared," he whispered, holding back a laugh.

Disgusted, Bellatrix let out an enraged huff, kicking Harry squarely in the chest. Smiling, Harry rolled back into the dirt.

"It is okay, my dear Trixy," He said romantically. "I will still love you, even when I am dead and you are stomping all over my grave and laughing manaically. For you see…love's bonds can never be broken, even by your ugliness."

Bellatrix eyes flashed menacingly as she started to stomp her way towards Harry. "I'm going to wipe that sorry little smirk off you're little face so fast—"

"No Bellatrix," Voldemort stopped her, staring at Harry with pure hatred and loathing. "_I _will take care of it."

Smiling, Harry got up from the ground, dusting himself off methodically. "Finally gonna kill me?" he asked.

Voldemort's murderous expression was answer enough.

"All right then Tom," Harry said, sighing. "I'll let you kill me now. I just want to do _one _thing."

"And what is that?" Voldemort asked through gritted teeth.

Harry grinned. "It's just, well, you've been trying to kill me every since I was one year old…but I've never actually touched you. Can I touch you?"

Voldemort almost fell over in shock. "Can you _what?" _

"Touch you," Harry repeated. "Can I touch you? Dying man's wish?"

"What, no! NO YOU MAY NOT—"

Too late. Harry had already vaulted forward, poking Voldemort gleefully in the stomach, causing him to recoil.

"Hee hee!" Harry giggled. "You're all squishy! Need to spend some time in the gym, Fattymort!"

"THAT IS IT!" Voldemort roared, stalking up to Harry and sticking the end of the Elder Wand firmly against his forehead.

"Ooo are you finally going to kill me now? All right, let me strike a pose." Ceremoniously, he struck a Hannah Montana pose, one hand on his hip, the other on his head, tussling his mess of black hair. Smirking, he batted his eyelashes at Voldemort.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort screeched, and in a flash of brilliant green light, Harry fell, smiling, to the ground.

And that was the end of the famous Harry Potter.


	2. Epilogue

(A/N: Hello everybody! Due to the enormous amount of positive feedback I have received on this one-shot, plus 6 wonderful people who took the time to visit my profile and vote yes for an extended chapter, I wrote an Epilogue. Thank you to all 38 of my wonderful reviewers, you all made me overwhelmed with joy. I was hoping for five, maybe ten reviews at most on this, but instead I got nearly 40, some even over a month after I posted it. Plus over 1,000 hits and 55 favs! I was sincerely shocked by its popularity. Thank you guys so much! I hope you like the extension just as much as the original story. Enjoy!)

**My New Challenge If You Choose to Accept It:**Read the Epilogue without laughing, giggling, put your hand to your mouth to suppress giggling, stuffing a pillow in you mouth to suppress giggling, moving your hands in wild gestures, snorting, biting your fingers, holding your breath, biting your tongue and/or your lip, smirking, showing teeth, grinning, smiling, eating peanut butter or going to the bathroom. Ha! Like to see you do THAT!

.

.

Voldemort stared at the body of his mortal enemy warily, unnerved by the creepy maniacal smile on the boys face. Could he really be dead? Could he have actually killed Harry Potter?

Carefully, the Dark Lord approached the body, wand afloat and at the ready, prepared to curse the boy at the slightest hint of movement…

**Oh yeah! C'mon! You get the limo out front. Ooo oo oo! **

Voldemort stopped in his tracks, the Elder Wand swiveling around madly, trying to locate the source of the sudden dialogue to curse it. Red eyes wide, he realized it was…music?

**Yeah when your famous it can be kind of fun. It's really you but no one ever discovers. In some ways you're just like all your friends. But on stage you're a stttaaaarrr! You get the beessstt of both worlds. Chill it out take it slow, then you rock out the show, you get the bessstt of both worlds. Mix it all together and you know that it's the best of both worlds.**

"What _is _this?" Voldemort hissed angrily, still trying to find the source of the blasted music.

"It's…it's music my Lord," Lucius said unhelpfully.

"I know its music you twit," Voldemort growled.

He continued to try and find the source of the infuriating tune, but was interrupted by suppressed giggles. He rounded on his Death Eaters, eyes flashing.

"What are you all laughing at?" he snapped.

They all immediately shut up, averting their eyes from his fiery red ones. The music continued to play in the background, causing Voldemort's urge to a) smash whatever was playing the song to smithereens and b) murder someone to increase.

**You go to movie premieres. Is that Orlando Bloom? Hear your songs on the raadioo. Whoa whoa a whoa o. Living two lives is a little weird, yeah. But schools cool cause nobody know-o-s. Nobody knows.**

"You," Voldemort said, pointing at the first Death Eater he saw. It was Dolohov, who seemed genuinely horrified to be singled out. "Why was everyone laughing?"

"M-my Lord?" The wizard sputtered.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I asked," he hissed, "why everyone was _laughing. _I am still speaking English, am I not?"

Dolohov looked around nervously, but no one came to his rescue. Gulping, he looked at Voldemort. "It's…it's Hannah Montana, my Lord," he said, breaking out into a sweat and trying to hold back a laugh at the same time.

Voldemort cocked his head. "Who?" he asked, confused.

"S-she's a Muggle singer," Dolohov explained. "Pop music."

"Pop music," the Dark Lord repeated, running the new word off his tongue. He listened to a few bars of the tune for a minute.

**Yeah you get to be a small town girl, but big time when you play your guitaaarrr!**

Pop music. It was kind of…catchy.

Curious, Voldemort listened intently to the song for a moment, before swiveling around, finally locating the source of the tune.

It was coming from the boy!

Carefully, warily, Voldemort bent down over the boys lifeless body, cocking his head in curiosity at the glowing blue light coming from the boys robe pocket. Unable to resist his curiosity a second longer, he extended his long white fingers into the pocket, pulling out the glowing object carefully.

Standing to his full height once again, Voldemort studied the object. It was small and rectangular, its face portraying an image of a blond woman holding her finger up in a "sshhh" motion on her very red lips, looking sideways at an insignia that read "Hannah Montana" in gold and purple lettering.

Fascinated, Voldemort poked the surface of the object and almost dropped it when the music abruptly stopped, and image of two parallel lines blinked up at him. Red eyes wide, he touched it again and a sideways triangle appeared as the music resumed. Entranced by this amazing device Voldemort tapped the screen in a variety of different places, causing the music to play on and off like a broken record, until the picture of the woman suddenly disappeared, replaced by another screen with many different icons.

All the Death Eaters crowded around him, staring at the rectangular device with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"Isn't that some sort of Muggle device?" Someone asked.

"I dunno, they make some weird stuff." Another answered.

Voldemort ignored them, looking at each individual icon in confusion, furious that he had no idea what they meant. Randomly, he picked one, a blue square with a large white F. Immediately another image popped up, causing Voldemort's eyes to narrow.

It was of Harry Potter, a photo of his young face, his messy hair all over the place, scar very noticeable on his forehead. His eyes were crossed behind his circular glasses, and he was sticking his tongue out defiantly at Voldemort. Next to the photo, it said: **Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived)**

Furious, but yet intrigued, Voldemort looked at the rest of the screen. After a moment, he wished he hadn't. It was some sort of bio. A "Facebook page" whatever that was.

**Harry James Potter. Boy Who Lived, Chosen One. **

** Occupation: Being awesome**

** Status: Like this if you think Voldemort needs a nose job.**

** 3 million likes.**

** Likes: Witchcraft, sorcery, magic, Hannah Montana, Miley Cyrus, Big Time Rush, Katie Perry, Lady Gaga**

Dislikes: Voldemort's face

** Groups: Haters of Lord Voldemort**

Furious at the flow of insults, Voldemort chucked the device into the woods. "Stupid Muggle contraption!" he yelled after it, seething with rage.

He rounded to face Harry's dead body, black robes billowing as he followers hurriedly retreated. Glaring at the seventeen year old, Voldemort wished he could kill him all over again. Instead, he could do something even better. Potter was dead. And now he could humiliate the boy even more.

Crouching down, Voldemort carefully placed the tip of the Elder Wand on the boys forehead, preparing the curse…

"SIKE!"

Voldemort shrieked as his snake-like nose was pinched cruelly from below, causing him to lose his grip on the Elder Wand, reeling back and clutching his nose in pain.

Eyes watering, the Dark Lord could just make out the form of Harry Potter rising nonchalantly from the forest ground, dusting off his robes carelessly before giving Voldemort a lopsided grin.

"Ello Tommy Boy," he said, his familiar voice confirming Voldemort's worst fear. "Did you miss me?"

Forgetting all about his throbbing double-slit for a nose, Voldemort's eyes blazed as he stared at Harry with a mixture of disbelievement in rage. "How?" he shrieked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "How is it that every time I try to kill you you _never stay dead!" _

Harry shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Maybe it's a medical condition."

Voldemort's eye twitched angrily. "I'm going to _murder _you," he hissed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So you said multiple times before you hit me with the Killing Curse last time. Can we move on please?"

Eyes ablaze with rage, Voldemort reached for his wand—his wand…eyes widening, Voldemort dug in his robe, trying to desperately to find his wand. Where was it?

Smirking, Harry raised his hand. "Looking for _this_?" he asked, twirling the Deathstick easily in his hand.

Voldemort stared at him, shaking with rage. "Give me the wand," he ordered. _"Now." _

"Or what?" Harry asked, flicking a piece of dust carelessly off the tip of the wooden, all-powerful rod. "You'll kill me? I think we've been over this already."

"Give me the wand, Potter," Voldemort repeated, voice becoming deadly.

"Eh, don't feel like it."

"GIVE IT TO ME!"

Harry smirked at Voldemort for a moment, before holding up the wand parallel to the ground for all to see, putting a hand on either end, and snapping it.

Voldemort just stared in horror, lipless mouth forming a giant O.

Narcissa leaned into her husband. "Oh no he di-dn't," she whispered.

"Oh yes he di-id," Lucius whispered back

Harry smile widened as he then promptly dropped the wand, stepping on it and cracking it more for good measure, before wiping his hands on his pants. "Oops," he said sarcastically. "It looks like I broke your whittle magic wand, V."

That snapped Voldemort out of it. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Um, well, I'm pretty sure I destroyed your wand," Harry pointed out.

"That was the Elder Wand!" The Dark Lord exploded. "The Deathstick! The most powerful wand in the _world!_"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

Voldemort's eyes seemed to leak fire. If he were in a cartoon, Harry wouldn't have been surprised to see smoke coming out of his ears.

"I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!" Voldemort screamed, lunging at Harry in his rage, aiming angrily for his neck. Harry calmly sidestepped him, expertly stepping on the edge of his robes as the Dark Lord passed, causing the Dark Wizard to fall flat on his face.

"Gotta catch me first!" Harry giggled, taking off in a sprint through the forest.

"GET HIM!" Voldemort shrieked.

All the Death Eaters took after Harry, the slightly chubbier ones taking the rear at a jog, accompanied by a panting Fattymort.

When the evil procession of wizards (finally) reached the castle, Voldemort took the lead, red eyes scanning the courtyard for his prey. "Potter!" he yelled. "Show yourself! You cannot hide from me forever!"

"Wasn't planning on it," Harry said, sauntering out of the entrance hall with his smirk still plastered to his face, the whole of the DA, Order of the Phoenix and the Hogwarts army trailing behind him.

The two sides faced off. Harry versus Voldemort. Dumbledore's Army, Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix versus the Death Eaters. Good versus evil. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly music playing in the background…wait, what?

All eyes turned to Ron.

"What?" the redhead said defensively, stopping his dramatic whistling. "It fit the mood!"

Harry rolled his eyes and the stare off continued as Harry and Voldemort circled each other, the classic Western tune reaching a higher, dramatic pitch as the nemesis's pointed their wands at each other.

"I'm going to kill you," Voldemort hissed gleefully.

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, what else is new? Can't you come up with something a _little _more original? Cut my hand off? Take my soul? Slash me into millions of pieces? Mummify me like the Egyptians? I dunno, just be a little more creative, Tommy."

Voldemort shot a curse at him. Harry ducked deftly. The curse hit a bust of some wizard that nobody cares about above them, which promptly fell from its post onto Voldemort's head, the medieval wig hanging lopsided on Voldemort's bald white top.

Harry stopped; staring in utter amazement, mouth forming a mesmerized O.

"It's a miracle!" he said, eyes wide. "Tom! You actually have _hair_!"

Voldemort let out an enraged cry, throwing the bust off of him and shooting another curse at Harry.

Harry did an easy cartwheel out of the way, sticking his tongue out at Voldemort as he went.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" Voldemort screamed.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Harry yawned mockingly, pretending to be bored as he dodged green jets of light. "Lets switch things around, shall we? How about I kill _you_?"

Voldemort was aghast. "You can't kill _me_," he sputtered. "I am immortal! I still have a Horcrux! You have failed!"

"Nagini?" Harry asked. "You mean your snake over there?" He pointed behind Tom, who spun around just in time to see Neville behead his snake with the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Ha!" The Gryffindor screamed at the dead serpent. "Take _that _you no-legged amphibian!"

"Actually, Neville," Luna observed. "I think it's a reptile."

"NOOOO!" Voldemort screamed, rounding on Harry with renewed anger.

Harry simply smirked at him. "Made you look," he giggled. "Not so immortal now, are we?"

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Should I just kill him now?" he whispered sideways to Ron. "Or should I blast Justin Bieber's Baby in his ears first?"

"Nah," Ron said. "Lets just bury him wearing a JB wig. It'll destroy his rep."

"Shall we spray silly string on his grave as well?"

"Yep."

"And decorate it with pretty, girly flowers and little angels?"

"Lets do it, mate."

"Alright then," Harry grinned, straightening his posture and raising his wand as he advanced on Voldemort till they were just a couple feet apart.

"Ready to die yet, Tom?" he asked.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry rolled his eyes, flicking his wand lazily. "Expelliarumus," he said halfheartedly.

The red and green collided…and then the green started to become overpowered by the red…

"Nighty night V," Harry said as the green light curved away from him. "Don't let the bed bugs bite!"

"NOOOO!" Voldemort yelled as he saw the flash of green of his own curse coming at him, lighting up the smirking face of Harry Potter, the last thing he ever saw.

And that was the end of the infamous Lord Voldemort.

**(A/N: Lol hoped you enjoyed! My brother has requested I put up a chap from in between these two though, a funny version of Harry and Dumbledore's conversation at Kings Cross. I'm willing to do it, but I want to know if you guys want me to or not. I'd probably call it something like "To Die, or Not to Die," so if you want to see it done, I'll put a pole up so you can vote. Please do if you want to see it done! Don't forget to review!) **


	3. To Die Or Not To Die

**(A/N: I am speechless. No, I'm not, cause I'm typing, never mind. I'm **_**appalled**_**. There we go some fancy word choice. I got 61 reviews on this. 61! SIXTY-ONE! You guys ROCK! :D I never expected to remotely get even CLOSE to this many reviews and readers. And for statistics—statistics that made me have a spaz, by the way—you guys have given me: 3,311 hits, 3 C2's, 97 favs and 15 alerts. All for what was supposed to be a simple random one-shot for my own enjoyment. My sincere thank you's to all of you who have read, reviewed, favorite, alerted and C2'd this story and suffered through the random ramblings and crazy ideas of a mentally-deranged Harry Potter fan. You guys rule.**

**And to show my extended thanks, here is recognition to all my lovely reviewers. Stare at your name with joy. You deserve it.**

**Thank You: movegal99, Cat Dracula, stormingnight, Kila9Nishika, wingswordsandmetaphors, Andromada-Morningstar, Amaterasu1969, Cam135, crystalclear8050, Tinar, crazymort, gryffinsdoor, Akuma De Fangirl Desu Kara, LillyOfTheField, This-mY-welL-not-namE-Right, The Pervious Latter One, soulknight121, Dawn that Shines, HarryJamesPotterismyhero, Jenni, bensdad, Iris, QRG, Sexii-chan, I-Await-A-Protector, GinHanelle, Arabella Riddle, xDarion'sKeeperx, jadeismycolor,Silfrvarg, Bridgette Carter, GKingOfFez, Anonymous, zoe the god, MyTeenageDream, Emriel, . slytherin, 13AkiraKuranXIII, ForeverZelink, LILEVILONE96, Proud-to-be-Nerdy, Slyther-Claw-proud, XxmixedXxLoverXx, phoenixluv, Red Eyed Black Cat, BKwriter, pixi-styx1221, Kai'ika95, RodentFace, Rhika, TheBlackSeaReaper, IHeartGiripan, Cookie05, The cursed child, Richasa, Wonderbee31 and Yamatta**

**You guys are great! I'm not sure if I am totally happy with this chapter. I don't think it is as funny as the other two, but I promised you guys I'd write it, and I did get seventeen votes of yes on my poll, (thank you guys very very much for voting!) so I figured I owed you guys it, and it does have its moments. If you have any ideas that you would like me to add, do tell. I am always open for suggestions and ideas. XD Enjoy!)**

**My New, Fabulous, Totally Awesome and Epic Challenge, If You Choose To Accept Is: ** . . . eh, I'm too lazy to come up with a new challenge. Knock yourselves out.

.

.

Harry awoke to find himself sitting, oddly, on a pure white floor. Blinking at the bright lights that shone all around him, he slowly got to his feet and looked around.

He seemed to be in some sort of…station. Almost like King's Cross. But cleaner.

Yeah. Definitely cleaner.

And smelly, he concluded, wrinkling his nose. The place smelled something like a mix of gillyweed and laundry detergent. And it did not smell pleasant.

He examined his surroundings with a critical eye for a long moment, ears perked, but not a sound was made in the empty white station.

Harry smirked. "Well, this is surreal," he said to himself, chuckling quietly. Slowly, his chuckle became a laugh, and then he full out cracked up, skipping around the station, laughing and singing We're Off To See the Wizard. When he was tired of skipping, he stopped, still grinning broadly, and looked down the seamlessly endless station. "HELLLOOO!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"HELLLOOOO!" his echo replied. Harry's green eyes sparkled with mad enjoyment.

"I'M DEAD!" he yelled.

"I'M DEAD!" his echo yelled back.

Harry giggled madly, doing a small pirouette, keeping himself spinning much longer than he ever thought he'd be able to do in life.

"I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'M DEAD!" he sang in a sing-song, almost hysterical voice. He skipped around the station for a couple minutes, humming and swinging his arms merely.

After a little while, he became tired of his jovial celebration of death and calmed down a bit, reassessing his surroundings. He cocked his head slightly, thinking.

"I'm dead…" he thought aloud to himself. "I've been a good boy. Well…sorta." He giggled again. "And this doesn't look like Hell. So is this…heaven?"

Emerald eyes sparkling with interest, Harry began to sprint down the seamlessly endless station, cutting through the thick mist like a knife through butter. As he had been expecting, when he finally stopped, there was no change in scenery. It was like he had never left the place where he had appeared.

He grinned. "Cool."

Giggling, he took off again, repeating the experiment and each time coming up at seemingly the same place he had just been. He laughed, beaming…but then his smile faltered as he realized something.

He frowned, scanning the station again, narrowing his eyes and taking in every detail, making sure there was nothing he had missed.

When he was done, his frown deepened.

"Aw man!" he yelled at the empty station in sudden despair, his mood switching faster than a bolt of lightning. "No fair! If this is heaven, where's the angels? The clouds, the harps, the choir boys? WHAT SORT OF HEAVEN IS THIS?"

Crossing his arms he glared at the station, willing it to change to become the heaven of his picture. It didn't.

Harry glowered at it. "Aw c'mon…" he said to no one in particular. "I was really looking forward to getting a pair of wings…and a halo. I bet they make awesome Frisbees."

He sighed, disappointed, but after a few minutes he got over his disappointment, even forgetting all about it as he realized something else entirely.

He wasn't wearing any clothes.

Harry stared at himself for a moment, touching his face for the first time and realizing he no longer wore glasses or had a scar on his forehead. He touched the place where it had been lightly just to make sure, but it wasn't there. Then he looked back down at himself.

"Well, this is embarrassing…" he laughed, putting his hands on his hips and staring down the empty station. He grinned, remembering how he had just run down it just a couple of minutes before.

He wondered if it was still considered streaking if no one saw him.

He giggled at the thought, eyes still alight and alive. He was just considering whether he should take another sprint for good measure when he heard a pitiful moan behind him.

Harry turned slowly, eyes falling on a small bench residing there. He examined it for a moment, and after another minute the moan sounded again, obviously from the direction of the bench.

Curious, Harry approached the seat and crouched down next to it, beholding the creature that was tucked underneath.

It was ugly. Harry thought it looked something like a cross between a rubber chicken, Dolores Umbridge, Voldemort's nose and a demented Care Bear…the absolute most scary and horrifying monster that he could possibly come up with. Just the thought of it sent surges of horror through his veins.

Harry stared at it.

The Care Bear moaned.

Harry stared at it.

The Care Bear moaned.

Harry stared at it.

The Care Bear moaned.

A long silence ensued.

And then Harry stood.

"Well _that _was gross," he remarked nonchalantly.

Ignoring and forgetting about the creature of his nightmares entirely, Harry made his way back to the center of the station. Although he felt neither self-conscious nor cold, he felt it was about time he got some clothes on. He was about to imagine some nice, warm robes to clothe himself and simply hope they would appear, but he stopped mid-thought.

If he _could _clothe himself with just a thought…why would he just get himself boring old robes?

He was dead…he might as well have a fashion style to match.

Grinning at the new idea, Harry wracked his brains to come up with the perfect outfit to summon…assuming that it worked at all. His first thought was something colorful, and at that thought, an image swam into his mind before he could stop himself. Before he knew it, Harry found himself clothed in a yellow, pokey-dotted clown suit, complete with the overlarge red shoes, rainbow afro and squeaky red nose.

Harry examined himself for a moment and then broke into hysterical laughter, tripping over the gigantic shoes and falling flat on his face. To his surprise, it didn't hurt and he seemed completely undamaged, an occurrence that made him laugh even harder.

He was starting to like this whole being dead thing.

When he got over his clown outfit and was ready to move on to something else in his twisted dress-up game, Harry got to his feet…with some difficulty. He thought more deeply this time, trying to come up with a good outfit to wear. He grinned as an idea hit him, and instantly he found himself dressed in a smart black suit and shades.

Smirking, Harry intertwined his fingers like a gun, putting it up close to his face like a secret agent. "The names Potter," he said in a deep voice. "_Harry_ Potter." He held the pose for a moment, grinning, before breaking it and thinking of something else to wear.

He continued like this for a good fifteen minutes, trying random outfit after random outfit. Finally, he did his last one. Concentrating hard, Harry found himself clad in a suit with a heavy yellow utility belt, a huge black cape that fell over his shoulders and dragged on the floor, a cowl with two identical horns sticking out of it, and a symbol of a bat on his chest.

Immediately, Harry put on a serious face, pulling the corner of the cape up so that it covered the lower half of his face. "I'M BATMAN," he said in a deep gravelly voice. Then he smirked and giggled.

Tired of playing dress up, Harry focused on some simple, plain black robes and they appeared on him, making him feel warm and comfy. He was just considering what he should do next when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

He turned to see Albus Dumbledore walking towards him, arms spread wide. "Harry," he said regally. "Wonderful boy. You brave brave man. Come, let us walk."

Harry's eyes widened. "Whoa, where did _you _come from? You were like, BAM, HERE I AM!"

Dumbledore's arms dropped to his sides. He looked confused. "Harry?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Harry said nonchalantly. "So, you're visiting my heaven, huh? Cool! Dead guys from my past are always welcome! Here, come sit, I don't want to be rude." He sat down quickly on a nearby bench, patting the seat next to him happily, a wide smile on his face.

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a long time, still obviously slightly confused by the Boy Who Lived's behavior. Slowly, he walked over to the bench and sat down.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, green eyes alight with curiosity. "So I'm dead, right?" he asked nonchalantly, never letting his striking and unnerving gaze leave the old wizards blue orbs. A small smirk was still on his lips.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Not quite," he said slowly.

Harry frowned. "Not quite?"

"No."

Harry's eyes shone with realization and he beamed at Dumbledore. "Well that explains a lot," he said, sounding relieved. "_That's _why there's no little angels flittin' round singin' Christmas carols. I was getting worried."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed somewhat, and he stared at Harry in concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.

"Think I'll meet up with Clarence at all?" he asked excitedly. "Once I'm truly dead, I mean."

Dumbledore blinked. "Who's Clarence?" he asked softly, studying the energetic teen before him.

Harry rolled his eyes, still grinning. "Never mind," he said, waving Albus' question off. "It's not important." He bobbed up and down for a moment on his seat, beaming. Then he frowned somewhat, glaring at the bench he was sitting on. "Why do we have to sit on this stupid bench?" he asked, kicking it. "I mean, really. I'm dead, or at least sorta dead. I can control this place, right?"

Dumbledore looked slightly at loss as to what to say, a problem that he had never encountered in life. "Er…"

But Harry had already moved on, closing his eyes like he was meditating, though he looked the exact opposite of calm. More like a toddler who got his hands on a can of Monster. The moment he closed his eyes, the bench they were sitting on disappeared, replaced by state-of-the-art swivel recliner chairs equipped with massage-heating features.

Harry opened his eyes and beamed at the furniture. "Now _that's _more like it," he laughed, reclining his chair all the way back and putting his hands behind his head in relaxation.

Dumbledore simply stared at him, flabbergasted. "Are you feeling all right Harry?" he asked cautiously.

Harry blinked. "_Me_?" he exclaimed, pointing to himself. He snorted. "Pshh, I'm fine! Actually, I'm better than fine. I'm dead. Er, partially dead. Half dead? What _am _I anyway?"

"You're halfway between life and death Harry," Dumbledore explained slowly.

Harry took this in slowly, looking deep in thought. "Sooo I'm half dead," he concluded. "And half alive."

Albus shrugged. "It depends on how you look at it," he said mysteriously. "Is the glass half full or half empty?"

Harry gave his former headmaster a weird look. "Who cares? It tastes the same."

The old wizard sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. "Look, Harry," he said rather tiredly. "You have two choices."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Choices? Like whether I wanna eat the dark chocolate candy bar or the milk chocolate?"

Dumbledore sighed. "No, not that."

Harry frowned. "But that's a choice."

"Yes," Dumbledore said slowly, trying to get the concept through the young wizards mind. "But this is a _different _type of choice."

"There's different types of _choices_?" Harry exclaimed, looking absolutely horrified.

"Yes Harry, there is."

Harry's mouth fell open. "SINCE WHEN?" he cried.

Dumbledore sighed. "Since now," he said, exasperated. "You can either go back and defeat Voldemort, possibly for good. Or you can move on."

Harry furrowed his brow. "On?" he repeated in confusion.

"On," Dumbledore said, smiling. At last, he thought, he had finally gotten something through to him.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

"What kind of stupid riddle is that?" Harry exploded, outraged. "What the heck is 'on'?

Dumbledore sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Simply on," he said vaguely.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You mean heaven," he said.

"A crude way of putting it, but yes," Albus sighed, giving in. "An afterlife. A being after death. Onwards after death. However you see it."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. Long and hard. "Y'know, I'm getting really sick and _tired _of all this riddle talk Dumbles," he complained. "Really, it's bad _enough _you talked my ear off all last year about _Tom _Riddle, but now, when you're dead, all you do is talk _in _riddles! I mean, c'mon man! Just tell me, straight out, mono e mono. What. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do."

"Make your choice," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry looked at him skeptically. "You mean die and skip around on clouds followed by happy little naked angels with teeny tiny wings and harps singing Christmas Carols, or go back to Earth and make fun of Voldy some more?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "If that's the way you see it Harry…"

Harry thought about it for a minute, putting his thumb and forefinger to his chin in deep concentration. After a moment, he shrugged. "Eh, as much as setting around on a cloud in a toga for all eternity sound fun, I'll think I pass," he decided nonchalantly, as if the choice was simple. "'Sides, I still got a couple things up my sleeve for ol' moldy Voldy back down on Terra Firma."

"So you've made your decision then," Dumbledore said slowly.

Harry looked confused. "What decision?"

"To go back and try to defeat Voldemort once and for all," the great wizard said majestically.

"Oh," Harry said, missing the point entirely. "Guess so. No offense, but I'm not really into the whole toga thing." He gestured to Dumbledore's attire carelessly.

"They're not togas," Dumbledore said, slightly defensively.

"What are they then? Dresses?"

"No."

"Kilts?"

"NO! They're robes."

Harry paused for a moment, studying Dumbledore's clothing carefully.

"...looks like a toga to me."

Dumbledore sighed again. Realizing he wasn't going to be able to get anything more through to Harry, he stood. "Until we meet again, Harry," he said formally.

Harry grinned. "Kay, bye," he said, nonchalantly, leaning back in his reclining chair. "Have fun up in the clouds wearing your toga! And say hi to Clarence for me, will ya?" 

The former headmaster's eye twitched, finally losing it. "I told you, they're _not _togas! And who's Clarence?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He waved Dumbledore off, looking extremely relaxed and unperturbed, unlike the annoyed old wizard. "He's a lil dude with no wings. You'll recognize him. Au revior Dumbles!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it, sighing instead. "Good bye Harry," he said softly as he began to fade away, beams of bright white light surrounding him. "Good luck on regaining your sanity…"

And then he was gone and Harry was falling into a deep of abyss of darkness, leaving his comfy, plush, state-of-the-art swivel recliner chair with massage-heating features far behind…

"NOOOO!" Harry yelled in despair, groping for his dream chair one last time, before everything went black.


End file.
